Of Husbands and Housekeepers
by AlliBeth
Summary: A look at what may have happened after Mei Lin knocked on the door.
1. Chapter 1

"Who is it?" she asked.

The answer that it was his wife was the last thing she'd expected.

Jean's grip on the ring box in her hand tightened as she watched the interaction between Lucien and his wife - noting his tense stance, even as she stood behind him.

Her question was echoed back at her, "Lucien," a cautious, suspicious voice questioned, "who is she?"

"Jean," he'd said quickly, "Jean, she's my..." he turned to lock eyes with her.

"Receptionist," Jean finished for him, holding his gaze. "I'm his receptionist. And his housekeeper."

Lucien mouthed an apology at her, visibly shaken by this turn of events.

"Are you going to invite me in?" the woman Jean now knew to be Mei Lin asked him.

"Of course," Lucien let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and stood back against the wall, motioning for her to move into the hallway.

"Shall I make some tea?" Jean asked, holding her composure in a way only she could.

"That would be lovely Jean," he replied, glancing at her apologetically. "Thank you."

* * *

Jean busied herself in the kitchen, trying to tune out the reunion between the man she loved and his long-lost wife - the talk of how he'd thought she was dead, of how she'd spent so many years trying to make her way back to him.

When the conversation lulled, she went into her usual carer mode, as Lucien excused himself for a moment in search of an old photo album.

"Mrs Blake," she said, cringing internally at the title that belonged to this stranger, "are you hungry? I can make you something to eat."

"No," she insisted, "I'm not hungry. But thank you, Mrs..." she glanced at the ring on Jean's finger.

"Beazley," Jean informed her. "Mrs Beazley. But please, call me Jean."

Mei Lin nodded, "You must have a very understanding husband to be here at your employer's home so late."

"My husband died in the war," she explained, "I worked for Lucien's father. Now I work for Lucien."

"And your relationship with my husband..."

Before Jean could answer, Lucien reentered the room, arms full of photo albums. "I've found them," he exclaimed, slowing when he noticed an air of tension in the room. The strained look on Jean's face concerned him, as did the slightly suspicious look on Mei Lin.

"It's getting somewhat late," he said, glancing between the two, "perhaps this is something better left for the morning."

Mei Lin nodded, offering him a sharp smile.

"Jean, would you make up the guest room for Mei Lin?" Lucien asked avoiding eye contact with his obviously startled wife.

Jean merely nodded in acknowledgement, moving off to fulfil the task.

"I had thought we would sleep in the same room," Mei Lin commented, regarding him suspiciously. "If you have no attachments, I don't see why we shouldn't..."

"It's been a long time," he interrupted. "We barely know each other after all these years..."

"Is she your lover?"

Lucien laughed at the question. "If you know Jean Beazley, you would never accuse her of anything so scandalous," he paused, wondering how much to reveal, "she is my friend, my moral compass, and someone I care for a great deal."

* * *

Lucien sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands, still shell shocked by the night's events. He let out a deep sigh, before startling a little at the feel of a hand rubbing circles on his back.

"Jean," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," she replied, sitting in the chair beside him, keeping a respectable distance in case Mei Lin should wander downstairs.

"What I was about to ask you..."

"Shhhh, it doesn't matter."

"But it does..." he insisted.

She smiled sadly, not daring to look at him, "She is your wife."

"And you are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, my sweet Jean."

He glanced at her, watching as she took control of the situation, "I don't think that's possible," she told him, "nor do I think it's something you should be saying out loud. Especially with Mei Lin in the house."

Lucian reached under the table, grasping her hand and linking his fingers with hers. "I will fix this, I promise."

Jean shook her head, rising to her feet and planting a cautious kiss on his head. "She is your wife, I am not. Some things you can't fix."

He watched as she moved to the door and off to her room, a sinking feeling overwhelming him. Just hours ago, he had been looking forward to life as an engaged man - engaged to the woman who'd become the centre of his life.

Now he had to come to terms with that fact that his greatest wish of close to two decades - the return of his long-lost wife - had become his biggest nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucien paused outside Jean's door, mustering the courage to knock. The choice was taken from him when the door suddenly opened before him.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, looking either way down the hallway.

"How did you know I was here?"

Jean pointed the glass in her bedroom door, rolling her eyes, "You're not exactly inconspicuous."

He nodded, smiling nervously. "Can I come in?"

Jean raised an eyebrow, "You really think that's wise? After all that's happened tonight?"

He gave her a forlorn look and she relented, deciding it was better for him to be inside with the door closed, than for his wife to stumble past in search of the bathroom only to find him outside his housekeeper's bedroom door.

"Sit." Jean motioned to the bed, and Lucien paced a little before finally settling on the end of her single bed.

She took in his drawn appearance. If anything, he looked as though he felt worse about this scenario than she did.

It had been three hours since their conversation in the kitchen. Three hours since he's promised to 'fix this'. At almost four in the morning, neither of them had had any sleep.

"It's not her fault," Jean stated, breaking the silence.

"I know."

"It's not your fault, either."

He had no answer for that, instead sinking down with his face in his hands, shaking his head. Jean heard his breath hitch as she reached out, as she had in the kitchen, rubbing her hand on his back.

"I don't deserve you," was his muffled response.

"You're probably right."

He laughed that, lifting his head from his hands and turning to face her as she sat beside him. "I wish I hadn't answered the door."

She signed, "That would have just delayed the inevitable. You know she knows... or at least she suspects. She asked me what my relationship was with 'her husband'".

He nodded. "Apparently we're pretty transparent."

Lucien reached out to take her hand, and she let him, his firm grip calming her.

"What was your answer going to be?" he asked, tentatively.

Jean moved to wrap both hands around his. "Do you really need to ask?"

"No. No, I suppose I don't."

She sighed, and against her better judgement moved to rest her head on his shoulder,

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for all of this," he told her.

"I know," she replied, startling him as she stood suddenly, tugging on their still-joined hands. "You need to sleep. You have an early start."

"I don't think sleep will come easily," he confessed, standing and moving to the door.

She cursed herself for her behaviour as she reached up to kiss his cheek, "Go. Sleep. I'll see you in the morning. Breakfast is only three hours away."

As Lucien left her room, she reached for the ring box she'd hidden under her pillow before opening the door to find him standing there. With shaky hands, she opened the box, slipping Lucien's mother's ring onto her finger.

She savoured the feeling for a few moments before returning the ring to the box, placing it onto her dressing table and settling face down on the bed as she felt the emotion of the night finally hit her.

In just a few hours, she would have to face Lucien and his long-lost wife at the breakfast table.


End file.
